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Monday night

I am starting to feel restless and despondent. I don't know what I am thinking, taking on this enormous cross-stitch project. I know that the end result will be breathtaking, but it doesn't seem even humanly possible to complete.

This weekend is the Irish festival. How many of these have we attended now? Our first one was my first year at Bethyl. That was 2003. So this will be our fourth. Time goes so quickly: it's startling.

Today was the first bright day in days, and I would not have changed anything I did. I don't think I will take another photography outing until the trees have starting turning a little green. Everything basically looks as it did in January.

I submitted my haikus to the Ito En contest. Wouldn't that be something if one ends up on a bottle? Moreover, if my picture of Ophelia ends up in Doll Reader? This may be a year of fame. At least I am putting many things out there for consideration.

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